


A Bloody Good Date

by Of_Princes_and_Savages



Category: Operation: Endgame (2010), Ravenous (1999)
Genre: Anyelle, Blood, Cannibalism, F/M, Look it's Hiero and Ives were you expecting something else?, Smut, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-20
Updated: 2018-10-20
Packaged: 2019-07-23 23:38:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16169126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Of_Princes_and_Savages/pseuds/Of_Princes_and_Savages
Summary: In which Ives thinks he has a date to *ahem* make breakfast in the morning, and Hiero is a thirsty girl.





	A Bloody Good Date

**Author's Note:**

> Alright so I've tagged this for blood and smut and vampires and cannibals and Anyelle. All other surprises are plot-driven and...not deserving of the big scary red warning labels.
> 
> I don't know what I'm writing anymore I'm just glad it's something.

The internet helped and hindered Ives' diet, at times. For one thing, it was infinitely harder for someone to go missing these days with cameras everywhere. For another, though, convincing strangers to meet you in dark places through social media was easier, if they were especially stupid.

(Of course since he was a cannibal with morals, if a thirteen-year-old girl showed up when she'd claimed to be a consenting adult online, he called the police who doubtlessly brought her home to unhappy parents who would have been a damn sight _more_ unhappy if she'd been chopped up or sold into human trafficking.)

Tonight he'd singled out the lovely Ms. Pope, a petite blonde with short curls, and quite possibly the bluest eyes Ives had ever seen. She was in possession of a darling little laugh and a sweet Southern accent, almost totally at odds with the daring little cocktail dress and she was wearing, matched to a tall pair of blood-red stilettos that still had her shorter than Ives' own...admittedly below average stature.

God-he-didn't-believe-in-above, she was gorgeous. Watching her nibble a breadstick felt obscene and Ives was only mildly surprised to feel himself stir at the sight.

It had been some time since he indulged in his enhanced...virility, of course, but good lord had it been that long? Well fine. It wasn't as if Ms. Pope wasn't eyeing him up and down like she was undressing him with her eyes, too.

That wasn't even ego: She beamed when he offered her his arm out of the restaurant, curled around him, and purred, "Your place or mine?"

* * *

John Ives was a beautiful man, Hiero had to admit. Smooth tan skin, soft-looking brown hair and a well-groomed mustache, a sharp nose and two close-set, deep dark eyes that had bored into her the entire time they sat through dinner like he wanted to change places with whatever was touching her lips at that moment.

(Which would be a breadstick, her wine glass, her fork, one point for the hell of it she licked a bit of raspberry sauce from her cheesecake off her thumb and she sure didn't imagine the way he gulped no matter how discreet.)

Not that she wouldn't devour him either. He was wearing a black suit and a black tie, simple, but dapper, and she kinda wanted to tear it off of him to see if he looked as good as the tailoring suggested. And he was charming without being slimy, he listened when she dithered in lady-like fashion and didn't talk too much about himself when it was his turn.

She made the executive decision to fuck him about halfway through dinner, rather pleased when he wanted to go back to his place. Offered to make her breakfast, even. How sweet.

Hiero supposed she could just raid his pantry after she was through, right? She debated for a bit about the best way to go about it, whether she should get his wrists in bed or lure him into the tub, while also admiring how warm he was.

* * *

Ives took a moment to slide his jacket around Ms. Pope's shoulders because she was like a small, shapely block of ice tucked against his side when they stepped outside. He usually wasn't bothered by the cold but he'd been sparing the last few days in feeding, and she was absolutely freezing.

She cooed something grateful and stayed close to his side, even in the car ride over to his current home. Her little hand kept wandering up his thigh, too. She'd brazenly cupped him at the one red light between his current home and the restaurant, giving a delighted giggle of approval. He was going to have to have her before he killed her because otherwise it wouldn't be nearly as...satisfying.

He was rather proud of his restraint in pinning her against a flat surface _after_ they were inside, pressing a hot, hard kiss against her rosy lips she reciprocated with a breathless little sound. The surface in question was the door, and he fumbled with the locks with one hand as the other slid over the curve of her rear.

Her hands sunk into his hair and the nails raked over his scalp, demandingly. Yes. This was a good choice. Very good.

He cupped her ass and lifted her up, grinning as her legs automatically locked around his hips and her arms went around his neck. She was such a wee thing, he mused, but the thought flew out of his head when she nipped at his ear.

 _Very_ good choice.

* * *

Hiero couldn't quite piece together the frantic scramble from the door to the bedroom, it was a lot of hands and teeth, (with control on her part because his blood was thrumming in his veins so sweet her fangs ached,) and lips and tongues, and a bit of beard-burn on her skin, and a lot of smeared lipstick on his.

It was maybe after her fifth orgasm, (five! Five orgasms! Had she ever had a victim go down on her for three in a row? It was almost enough to keep him alive and on the side, almost,) that her hunger got the better of her. She was sitting on Ives' lap with his face buried the curve of her throat, driving up into her, so it took very little effort to bend down, tugging his head by his thick hair at just the right angle and-

Her teeth sunk in, the richest-tasting blood she'd ever had spurted into her mouth, but that was all she could recall before suddenly she was on her back, arms pinned at her sides and Ives looming over her with feral rage flashing in his near-black eyes, his mouth twisted in a snarl as blood dribbled down from the bite in the meat between the base of his throat and shoulder.

The smell of his blood was wrong, Hiero realized suddenly. The taste, while fucking amazing, wasn't...it wasn't human.

"What the fuck are you?" she blurted.

* * *

"What the fuck are you?"

"What the fuck am I? What the hell are you?!" Ives demanded, feeling as if he'd not just stepped off a path into the dark, but been _flung_ out there. He'd had women bite, kick, scratch, and so on and so forth when he was killing them, men too, but this was nothing like that.

This felt...predatory.

Hiero blinked slowly. She wasn't as cold as she'd been earlier, bringing her home from the restaurant. Her lips were now red with blood, smeared down her chin, little droplets rolling from the wound in his throat to spatter her chest. Her teeth were _sharp_.

"Are you a vampire...?" Ives heard himself say, in an absurdly small voice.

Really. He was a cannibalistic wendigo, asking the tiny woman pinned beneath him that had just tried to rip into his throat if she could be a vampire? And here he thought the world didn't have any surprises left for him at his age.

"Yeah..." she shrugged-or tried to,-and suddenly looked kind of...sheepish? "Sorry 'bout that? Um...what are you?"

"Wendigo."

"Huh. That's new...were you going to eat me?"

Ives frowned. "I don't think you have the right...nutrients, for me." If she, being a vampire, was dead, he felt fairly sure the same qualities human flesh had wouldn't apply to hers. "If I let you up, will you eat me?"

Ms. Pope, if that was her name, giggled. "After five orgasms? I'll do whatever the hell you want me to, baby."

* * *

So once she introduced herself properly-"Hierophant, you can call me Hiero though,"-and they ascertained that neither would be attempting to kill/eat the other, Ives tossed Hiero his bathrobe and grabbed a pair of pants for himself.

It was a bit easier talking to each other now that they were covered, although Ives wasn't wearing a shirt and that just _wasn't_ fair because he _really_ was pretty.

Ives cut the last...steak, Hiero decided to call it, in his fridge in half and left her portion raw. He scrambled up some eggs to go with it and Hiero picked at the piece of flesh on her plate. It wasn't the same as blood, really, but it was enough that she wasn't ravenous anymore.

"So how old are you?" she asked. He gave her a look and she just shrugged. "Most of the...carnivores I meet live pretty long."

Ives paused again, looking her up and down. "Hm...I suppose I'm just over two hundred years old now. Never really bothered to keep up with birthdays, even as a normal man. You?"

"I'll be a hundred and seventy-five on Christmas Day." Hiero smiled. "Same birthday as Jesus, that's what my mama always said so I never forget. Hmm...I guess there's not _that_ much of an age-gap between us, don't you think? I'm used to being the oldest person in the room, most of the time, kinda makes me feel like a cradle-robber when I find a cute little snack, even if he looks older than me. No offense."

Ives shrugged, spearing a piece of egg onto his fork. "None taken. You have no idea how close you were to laying with these eggs on my plate here."

Oh. So that's what he meant by making her breakfast. Ha-ha, Hiero rolled her eyes. "Do you always fuck your breakfast or am I just special?"

He almost choked on his scrambled eggs and Hiero decided she was going to hang around Ives a lot more often. This could be the start of something fun...


End file.
